University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

—A Guard Room. Benches, Tables, &c. Ticely, bound as a prisoner, sitting beside Rip, who, slightly intoxicated, is drinking and smoking.
Rip.

Come, talk—talk, and look not so gloomy. When a

man hasn't long to live, it behoveth him to be jolly. Look
here; here is but one sup left in this tankard, and but listen
how I smack my lips over it. Ah, ah—the ups and downs of
life, Master Ticely. I knew you governor of Oxford jail. I
was once your prisoner, and—ha, ha—down bumps your end
of the see-saw, and here you are, mine: and serve you rightly.
What made you volunteer into the scurvy Parliament army?

Tice.

I was entrapped by that young Fenwicke, who has
prevailed upon Cromwell to give him a lieutenancy, and, as I
told you, already heads a skirmishing party, from which yoa
captured me.

Rip.

The artful young scamp! And so he was in league
with Noll to frighten the Blechington garrison into a surrender
by pretending to go bare-necked to the scaffold. Ha, ha!
a cunning trick, and well acted. But, harkee, Ticely—if you
can make it appear that Colonel Wyndebanke was privy to and
seconded this stratagem, you will find favour with Wilton, and,
peradventure, save yourself. Do you understand?

Tice.

I'll do it, trust me, effectually.

Rip.

Will you? That's right. Come, drink of this fresh
stoup; I love a pot companion.

Tice.

Then, pray you, good comrade toper, take off these
manacles.

Rip.

No, no, good Master Ticely, I dare not trust myself;
for though I give praise I am of sober habit, yet flesh is
weak, and a little overcomes me, and knowing you to be a
thorough backbone rascal—excuse me—I might chance to lose
you, or have my own throat divided; nevertheless, O be joyful,
and take a pipe. I will e'en light it for thee.

(Sticks a pipe in Ticely's mouth.)
Tice.

No, take it hence. I will not smoke unless you release me.

Rip.
(Cuffing him.)

Then take that, for an unsociable cur!
I swear the very first man that comes here shall smoke for
thee, or I will cut his windpipe.

Enter Wabble, L. H.
Wab.

Ah, gentlemen—I beg pardon for alarming you by
my abrupt entrance.

Rip.

Alarmed! Fire and brimstone, what mean you by
alarmed? What d'ye want?

Wab.

I beg your pardon, but—but have you seen Mistress
Wabble?

Rip.

And who is Mistress Wabble?

Wab.

I beg your pardon, but that's my wife. My name's
Wabble.

Rip.

Why, man, what should we do with thy wife—art
drunk?

Wab.

In a few words I'll explain. We were on a wedding

visit at Blechington, which, being delivered to the Round-heads,
we have come to Oxford for safety; and while I was
walking a short time since with Mistress Wabble—that's my
wife—we overheard a soldier to say that Colonel Wyndebanke
was to be tried this very night as a traitor; so nothing
would serve my wife—(she's a good-hearted creature!)—but
we must offer ourselves as witnesses, to tell all about it, and
justify the Colonel. I said, “Be quiet; 'tis no business of
ours; we shall only get ourselves in a mess.” But she is a
wilful body—(my wife)—and off she started without me; so,
after a little consideration, I started after her, and here I am.
Have you seen Mistress Wabble?

Rip.

Is she well-favoured?

Tice.

The plumpest, most inviting little darling you ever
dropt eyes on.

Wab.

Why that is Master Ticely, as I live! Glad to see
you. Have you seen Mistress Wabble—how shall I find her?

Tice.

I would counsel you first to enquire for Captain Horner.

Wab.

Oh, don't mention it. What a devil of a fellow that
is! As I'm a valiant man, here he comes, and—horror and
despair—she—she—my wife—Mistress Wabble is with him!

(Sinks into a chair R. H.
Enter Captain Horner and Mistress Wabble, L. H.
Mrs. W.

Oh, my husband is here. Thank you, Captain
Horner, for your kind protection amongst all those uncouth
soldiers.

Wab.

How can you utter those two sacred words, “my
husband,” without sinking into the floor with your weight of
shame! What do you with that man?

Hor.

How now, friend Wabble—

Wab.

Friend be—Don't friend me, sir. (Crosses.)
That
is Mistress Wabble, sir—my wife, sir. I didn't go to the expense
of marrying her for your gratification, friend as I am.
Take my ox, my ass, my anything else that is mine, but don't
attempt to take her, or look to it, both of ye!

Mrs. W.

Oh, you idiot—

Hor.

I met your wife, endeavouring to make her way to the
guard-room, and assisted her: is there crime in that?

Rip.
(Coming forward.)

Here, I'll be peace-maker. Master
Wabble, be satisfied, and hold your tongue, or this fistlet
shall flatten that noselet of yours—sela! Captain Horner, 'tis
the duty of every soldier to do his best when a woman's in the
case, and I doubt not you have done your duty. Mistress
Wabble, to prove that I think well of you, accept this token—

[Attempts to kiss her.]
Wab.

Yes, yes; she requires no token—thank you all the
same.

Rip.

There, now we are all friends—oh, be joyful!

Wab.

Well, Captain Horner, now let us thoroughly understand
one another: I am not a man to be trifled with—with
respect to my share of my own wife—

Hor.

There, take her to your arms, and fear no wrong from
me. Rip, I have received orders from Wilton to start immediately
with dispatches to Chester. This paper, which I have
just written, contains all the information I am able to give respecting
the surrender of Blechington, and, in my absence,
may be of service to Colonel Wyndebanke. I trust it with
you.

[Gives paper to Rip.]
Rip.

It shall be put to its proper purpose.

Hor.

Ticely, I am sorry to see you in this plight, but 'tis a
just return for your treachery.

Tice.

Reproach me not. I have heartily repented, and shall
endeavour to make reparation by bearing witness—(though to
my own disadvantage)—to the late manly and upright conduct
conduct of Colonel Wyndebanke.

Mrs. W.

Do so, that's a sweet gentleman: we have come
hither for the same purpose.

Hor.

You will do well. Rip, may I advise that you remove
his bands, and treat him indulgently. (Rip removes the manacles.)

I would have desired to have seen Wyndebanke before I
started, but learn that access is strictly prohibited. Commend
me to him. Adieu!

[Exit L. H.
Rip.

Now, Wabble, sit down and drink. I desire to cultivate
your acquaintance, and this pretty wife of yours shall
sit beside me. [They sit. Wabble, R. and Rip and Mrs. W.

L. of table Rip kisses Mrs. W.]

Wab.
[Rising.]

Stop: allow me to say that is not agreeable
to the feelings of a husband. Mistress Wabble, come here.

Rip.

Pshaw, man, this is nothing: if the sight pleases you
not, turn your back on us, and we'll put up with the rudeness.

Wab.

Mistress Wabble, we will not remain here.

Rip.

Harkee, Wabble; perchance you do not know me. I
am Anthony Rip, celebrated for cutting throats and blowing
brains out. Look—here is my pistol, crammed to the muzzle:
a word or two from you will pull the trigger, and silence
your tongue for ever. [Loudly.]
Obey me, sirrah, d'ye hear?
Empty that flagon! [Wabble timidly takes the flagon, and

drinks, but stops for want of breath]
Drink it up, or by the
ceiling above, and the floor beneath, I'll—

Wab.
[Out of breath.]

I—I cannot take any more, I—

Rip.
[In a voice of thunder.]

Empty the can, d'ye hear?
[Wabble drinks again.]
Now take a pipe, and light it.

Wab.
[Aside.]

Oh, lord—oh, lord! Excuse me, I can't
smoke.

Wab.
[Taking up pistol.]

Smoke!

Wab.

How d'ye do it?

Rip.

Here's a light. [Lights the paper which Horner gave

him.]

Wab.

Do you know what you've done? That paper is—

Rip.

Hold your tongue, and smoke.

Wab.
[Aside.]

Oh, lord—here's a situation! [He lights

pipe.]

Rip.

Now if you dare to let that pipe out, I'll blow out your
brains.

Mrs. W.

Oh, he'll be so ill directly, poor fellow.

Rip.

My love, never mind him. Now, sir, turn your back
to us— [Wabble unwillingly turns.]
—and whenever you hear
me kiss Mrs. Wabble, take up the flagon by your side and
drink, or listen to the crack of this pistol.

Wab.
[Aside.]

Oh, dear—that wife will be the death of me.

Enter Wilton, R. H.
Wil.

Rip, come hither. (Rip rises aad comes forward, L.)

Has Captain Horner departed?

Rip.

Yes.

Wil.

That is well: and what of Ticely?

Rip.

He'll do anything you wish.

Wil.

'Tis well again: and who are these?

Rip.

Two simple bodies, who desire to be witnesses in favour
of the Colonel: but leave them to mo—I'll prevent their
appearance.

Wil.

Enough. Master Ticely, follow me: I would speak
with you.

(Exit, followed by Ticely, R. H.
Rip,

Why, curse me, that fellow has turned round. Turn
back again, knave, or—

Wab.

An it please you, this tobacco does not agree with me.

Rip.

Qualify it with strong ale, and I warrant 'twill agree.
(Kisses Mistress Wabble, and lays his hand on his pistol.
Wabble drinks.)
There—now they have left us alone, let us
be joyful. Come, I'll sing ye a song; and, mark ye, the burthen
of each verse is a kiss. (During symphony Rip kisses
Mistress Wabble, and Wabble, who is becoming intoxicated,
drinks.)

SONG.—RIP.
If 'twere not for women and wine, what were life,
A compound of trouble, of toil, and of strife—
But the bottle in hand, and the wench on my knee,
The devil may take all dull care, boys, for me.
For I laugh, and I quaff, and I toy and I kiss,
And where's the specific for sorrow like this?
With my lass, and my glass,
All care, boys, shall pass,
For where's the specific for sorrow like this?
What charming confusion those two things impart—
The wine in the head, and the wench in the heart.
If the woman be fair, and the bottle be free,
The devil may take all dull care, boys, for me—
For I laugh, and I quaff, and I toy, and I kiss,
And where's the specific for sorrow like this?
With my lass, and my glass, &c.

(As Rip is about to kiss Mistress Wabble again, she, expressing a dislike to his familiarity, slaps his face—a struggle ensues—Wabble rises to assist, but overcome with liquor, falls beneath the table. The Scene closes in.)